“I have promised not to play with him, is that not enough!” I exclaimed.
“Do you know, I believe it is, Snake-girl!” she said, and there was
something wistful in her eyes, “but you are twenty, and I am past
thirty, and--he is a man!--so one can’t be too careful!” Then she
laughed, and I left her putting a toe into a blue satin slipper, and
ringing for her maid.
I don’t think age can matter much, she is far far more attractive than
any girl, and she need not pretend she is afraid of me. But the thing
that struck me then, and has always struck me since is that to have to
_hold_ a man by one’s own manœuvres could not be agreeable to one’s
self-respect. I would _never_ do that under any circumstances; if he
would not stay because it was the thing he wanted to do most in the
world, he might go. I should say, “_Je m’en fiche!_”
At luncheon, for which the guns came in,--no nice picnic in a lodge
as at Branches--I purposely sat between two old gentlemen, and did my
best to be respectful and intelligent. One was quite a nice old thing,
and at the end began paying me compliments. He laughed, and laughed at
everything I said. Opposite me were Malcolm and Lord Robert, with Lady
Ver between them. They both looked sulky. It was quite a while before
she could get them gay and pleasant. I did not enjoy myself.
After it was over, Lord Robert deliberately walked up to me.
“Why are you so capricious?” he asked. “I won’t be treated like this,
you know very well I have only come here to see you. We are such
friends--or were. Why?”
Oh! I did want to say I was friends still, and would love to talk to
him. He seemed so adorably good looking, and such a shape! and his blue
eyes had the nicest flash of anger in them.
I could have kept my promise to the letter, and yet broken it in the
spirit, easily enough, by letting him understand by inference--but of
course one could not be so mean as that, when one was going to eat her
salt, so I looked out of the window, and answered coldly that I was
quite friendly, and did not understand him, and I immediately turned
to my old gentleman, and walked with him into the library. In fact I
was as cool as I could be without being actually rude, but all the time
there was a flat, heavy feeling round my heart. He looked so cross and
reproachful, and I did not like him to think me capricious.
We did not see them again until tea; the sportsmen, I mean. But tea at
Tryland is not a friendly time. It is just as stiff as other meals.
Lady Ver never let Lord Robert leave her side, and immediately after
tea everybody who stayed in the drawing-room played bridge, where they
were planted until the dressing-bell rang.
One would have thought Lady Katherine would have disapproved of cards,
but I suppose every one must have one contradiction about them, for she
loves bridge, and played for the lowest stakes with the air of a “needy
adventurer” as the books say.
I can’t write the whole details of the rest of the visit. I was
miserable, and that is the truth. Fate seemed to be against Lord Robert
speaking to me--even when he tried--and I felt I must be extra cool and
nasty because I--Oh! well, I may as well say it--he attracts me very
much. I never once looked at him from under my eyelashes, and after the
next day, he did not even try to have an explanation.
He glanced with wrath sometimes--especially when Malcolm hung over
me--and Lady Ver said his temper was dreadful.
She was so sweet to me, it almost seemed as if she wanted to make up to
me for not letting me play with Lord Robert.
(Of course I would not allow her to see I minded that.)
And finally Friday came, and the last night.
I sat in my room from tea until dinner. I could not stand Malcolm any
longer. I had fenced with him rather well up to that, but that promise
of mine hung over me. I nipped him every time he attempted to explain
what it was, and to this moment l don’t know, but it did not prevent
him from saying tiresome, loving things, mixed with priggish advice. I
don’t know what would have happened only when he got really horribly
affectionate just after tea I was so exasperated, I launched this bomb.
“I don’t believe a word you are saying--your real interest is Angela
Grey.”
He nearly had a fit, and shut up at once. So, of course, it is not a
horse. I felt sure of it. Probably one of those people Mrs. Carruthers
said all young men knew; their adolescent measles and chicken-pox she
called them.
All the old men talked a great deal to me; and even the other two
young ones, but these last days I did not seem to have any of my usual
spirits. Just as we were going to bed on Friday night Lord Robert came
up to Lady Ver--she had her hand through my arm.
“I can come to the play with you to-morrow night, after all,” he said.
“I have wired to Campion to make a fourth, and you will get some other
woman, won’t you?”
“I will try,” said Lady Ver, and she looked right into his eyes, then
she turned to me. “I shall feel so cruel leaving you alone, Evangeline”
(at once almost she called me Evangeline, I should never do that with
strangers), “but I suppose you ought not to be seen at a play just yet.”
“I like being alone,” I said. “I shall go to sleep early.”
Then they settled to dine all together at her house, and go on; so,
knowing I should see him again, I did not even say good-bye to Lord
Robert, and he left by the early train.
A number of the guests came up to London with us.
My leavetaking with Lady Katherine had been coldly cordial. I thanked
her deeply for her kindness in asking me there. She did not renew the
invitation; I expect she felt a person like I am, who would have to
look after herself, was not a suitable companion to her altar-cloth and
poker workers.
Up to now--she told Lady Ver--of course I had been most carefully
brought up and taken care of by Mrs. Carruthers, although she had
not approved of her views. And having done her best for me at this
juncture, saving me from staying alone with Mr. Carruthers, she felt
it was all she was called upon to do. She thought my position would
become too unconventional for their circle in future! Lady Ver told me
all this with great glee. She was sure it would amuse me, it so amused
her--but it made me a teeny bit remember the story of the boys and the
frogs!
Lady Ver now and then puts out a claw which scratches, while she
ripples with laughter. Perhaps she does not mean it.
This house is nice, and full of pretty things as far as I have seen. We
arrived just in time to fly into our clothes for dinner. I am in a wee
room four stories up, by the three angels. I was down first, and Lord
Robert and Mr. Campion were in the drawing-room. Sir Charles Verningham
is in Paris, by the way, so I have not seen him yet.
Lord Robert was stroking the hair of the eldest angel, who had not gone
to bed. The loveliest thing she is, and so polite, and different from
Mary Mackintosh’s infants.
He introduced Mr. Campion stiffly, and returned to Mildred--the angel.
Suddenly mischief came into me, the reaction from the last dull days,
so I looked straight at Mr. Campion from under my eyelashes, and it
had the effect it always has on people, he became interested at once.
I don’t know why this does something funny to them. I remember I first
noticed it in the schoolroom at Branches. I was doing a horrible
exercise upon the _Participe Passé_, and feeling very _égarée_, when
one of the old Ambassadors came in to see Mademoiselle. I looked up
quickly, with my head a little down, and he said to Mademoiselle, in a
low voice, in German, that I had the strangest eyes he had ever seen,
and that up look under the eyelashes was the affair of the devil!
Now I knew even then the affair of the devil is something attractive,
so I have never forgotten it, although I was only about fifteen at the
time. I always determined I would try it when I grew up, and wanted to
create emotions. Except Mr. Carruthers and Lord Robert I have never had
much chance though.
Mr. Campion sat down beside me on a sofa, and began to say at once that
I ought to be going to the play with them; I spoke in my velvet voice,
and said I was in too deep mourning, and he apologized so nicely,
rather confused.
He is quite a decent-looking person, smart and well-groomed, like
Lord Robert, but not that lovely shape. We talked on for about ten
minutes. I said very little, but he never took his eyes off my face.
All the time I was conscious that Lord Robert was fidgeting and playing
with a china cow that was on a table near, and just before the butler
announced Mrs. Fairfax, he dropped it on the floor, and broke its tail
off.
Mrs. Fairfax is not pretty; she has reddish gold hair, with brown
roots, and a very dark skin, but it is nicely done--the hair, I mean,
and perhaps the skin too, as sideways you can see the pink sticking
up on it. It must be rather a nuisance to have to do all that, but it
is certainly better than looking like Mary Mackintosh. She doesn’t
balance nicely, bits of her are too long, or too short. I do like to
see everything in the right place--like Lord Robert’s figure. Lady Ver
came in just then, and we all went down to dinner. Mrs. Fairfax gushed
at her a good deal. Lady Ver does not like her much, she told me in the
train, but she was obliged to wire to her to come, as she could not
get any one else Mr. Campion liked, on so short a notice.
“The kind of woman every one knows, and who has no sort of pride,” she
said.
Well, even when I am really an adventuress I sha’n’t be like that.
Dinner was very gay.
Lady Ver, away from her decorous relations, is most amusing. She says
anything that comes into her head. Mrs. Fairfax got cross because Mr.
Campion would speak to me, but as I did not particularly take to her,
I did not mind, and just amused myself. As the party was so small Lord
Robert and I were obliged to talk a little, and once or twice I forgot,
and let myself be natural and smile at him. His eyebrows went up in
that questioning pathetic way he has, and he looked so attractive--that
made me remember again, and instantly turn away. When we were coming
into the hall, while Lady Ver and Mrs. Fairfax were up putting on their
cloaks, Lord Robert came up close to me, and whispered:
“I _can’t_ understand you. There is some reason for your treating me
like this, and I will find it out! Why are you so cruel, little wicked
tiger cat!” and he pinched one of my fingers until I could have cried
out.
That made me so angry.
“How dare you touch me!” I said. “It is because you know I have no one
to take care of me that you presume like this!”
I felt my eyes blaze at him, but there was a lump in my throat, I would
not have been hurt, if it had been anyone else--only angry--but he had
been so respectful and gentle with me at Branches--and I had liked him
so much. It seemed more cruel for him to be impertinent now.
His face fell, indeed, all the fierceness went out of it, and he looked
intensely miserable.
“Oh! don’t say that!” he said, in a choked voice. “I--oh! that is the
one thing, you know is not true.”
Mr. Campion, with his fur coat fastened, came up at that moment, saying
gallant things, and insinuations that we must meet again, but I said
good-night quietly, and came up the stairs without a word more to Lord
Robert.
“Good-night, Evangeline, pet,” Lady Ver said, when I met her on the
drawing-room landing, coming down. “I do feel a wretch leaving you,
but to-morrow I will really try and amuse you. You look very pale,
child--the journey has tried you probably.”
“Yes, I am tired,” I tried to say in a natural voice, but the end word
shook a little, and Lord Robert was just behind, having run up the
stairs after me, so I fear he must have heard.
“Miss Travers--please--” he implored, but I walked on up the next
flight, and Lady Ver put her hand on his arm, and drew him down with
her, and as I got up to the fourth floor I heard the front door shut.
And now they are gone, and I am alone. My tiny room is comfortable,
and the fire is burning brightly. I have a big armchair and books, and
this, my journal, and all is cosy--only I feel so miserable.